


women with madness

by slightlyraspberry



Series: death by folklore [3]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Meeting the Parents, Parallels, Roman Catholicism, idk it's a character study kinda, maybe? - Freeform, tw: d slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26084266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyraspberry/pseuds/slightlyraspberry
Summary: First Ladies are rarely well-liked.
Relationships: Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet, Helen Santos/Matt Santos
Series: death by folklore [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091939
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	women with madness

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is?? It's the third death by folklore, at any rate. With "the last great american dynasty" i was a little lost w how to embody it bc it's a story song. with this fic I went with the idea of women "ruining everything," as it were. 
> 
> also disclaimer: I was raised catholic and am the product of an interracial marriage, so I feel somewhat qualified to write about both topics. If you feel i didn't portray anything accurately/respectfully, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.

**_Part One: Manchester, 1966_ **

Abbey's not all that sure Jed's parents like her.

She's not sure why. She's one of the few women bright enough to go to St. Mary’s. She has a 3.7 grade point average, which is higher than Jed's. And she might not come from a family as illustrious as the Bartlets, but no one ever said the Barringtons were shameful.

All this is to say that she's thoroughly confused by the cold demeanor of Jed's mother and the absence of his father at Manchester this Thanksgiving. 

"You said your parents would like me," she hisses at him later, standing between the two twin beds in his childhood room. "But so far, the only one that's bothered to show up has treated me like I'm some dead bird the cat dragged in."

"Abbey," Jed says, "Could you please keep your voice down?"

"It is down. Don't patronize me, Jed, I asked you a question."

Jed sighs. "Mother thinks you're the reason I'm not going to be a priest."

"She's right. Why is that disappointing? Doesn't she want your grandchildren?"

"Not as much as she wants a priest in the family."

"Funny. My mother told me if I became a nun she'd disown me and give my sister the inheritance."

"Abbey, you don't have an inheritance."

"Is that why your father didn't bother to show up?"

"No, he's just—he's just busy. He hasn't shown up to Thanksgiving since I started university."

Abbey pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and crosses her arms. "I just thought that there'd be a bit of a warmer reception. You talk so highly of your mother."

"It's not you. She would've been like this with any girl."

"Would she have told you any other girl but me was a raging bulldyke you shouldn't marry because I'll run off with the next Tammy, Diane, or Harriet that comes my way?"

"Perhaps not as such, no," Jed says. "Abbey, I'm sorry she said that, but you have to understand—"

"Understand what? That your parents are sexist bigots?"

Jed looks at her coldly. "My mother isn't a bigot, Abbey. They thought about things differently back then." He sits down on the side of the bed at her left. "You know I love how strong you are. My mother may not appreciate it, but I won't have you calling her a bigot."

"I just wish..." Abbey sits down next to him and unfolds her arms, setting one hand on his. "I just feel like I'm intruding on something, and I don't want to be. You love your mother, Jed. I want to love her too. But I can't do that when she hates me for throwing your life off track."

"Abbey, you didn't throw my life off track." Jed looks into her eyes. She's always loved his eyes, so full of feeling and determination. "You're my calling. The Lord was never sending me the call to the priesthood—I'm meant to get married. To you. I know it."

"I know," Abbey relents. "I know." Jed puts a hand on her shoulder. 

"I'll explain to Mother," he says. "She'll come around." He pulls her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her back. Her chin falls into his shoulder, and she wraps her arms around him as  
she looks at the old photos on his wall.

"I just wish," she says, "that she would do it a little faster." Jed just holds her tighter in response. She leans into him, closing her eyes.

-

They get married on a beautifully sunny Tuesday morning. The church is a little stuffy, but the service is nice and a rector from Abbey's dorm agrees to perform the service and gives a beautiful homily. Abbey can see Jed's mother wiping tears away from her spot in the front row. She catches Abbey's eye and mouths "congratulations."

**_Part Two: Houston, 1990_ **

Helen thinks Matt's parents almost certainly don't like her. Matt's off in the kitchen having what sounds like a heated discussion in Spanish with his father, and she sits in the living room with his mother. Helen is seated on one couch, Mrs. Santos on the other across from her.

She smiles awkwardly at her. "You have a wonderful home, Mrs. Santos," she says. 

"Thank you," Mrs. Santos says in clear, Southern-accented English. She crosses her legs. She's wearing a skirt and sweater set, a far cry from Helen's jeans and third-best blouse.

Helen looks at a clock on the wall. "No puedes... gringa... y destruye tu vida," she catches from the other room.

She thinks she hears Matt say "la amo" in response, but she's not sure. She and Mrs. Santos just sit, not looking at each other, desperately trying to listen in on Matt and Mr. Santos without looking like they're listening in.

Matt storms into the living room. "Come on, Helen. We're leaving." He kisses his mother on the cheek. "Goodbye, mom. Love you." He walks towards the door and looks back at Helen. She feels like she can't move from her spot, like her ass is glued to the couch. 

"Come on!" Matt says over his shoulder. 

Helen scrambles to get to the door. "Thank you— um. Thank you for everything," she says nervously, looking at Mrs. Santos on the couch and then Mr. Santos where he glowers in the doorway from the kitchen to the living room. Then Matt is pulling her out the front door and into  
his tiny car. 

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I didn't think they'd actually say anything." He's slouched at the wheel, staring straight ahead. Helen looks at him.

"Your mother was perfectly nice," she offers. 

"Yeah, but she wasn't exactly _warm_ ," he says. "They're both upset I'm not marrying... 'one of my own,' my dad said."

Helen puts a hand on his thigh. "Hey. My parents aren't crazy about me marrying you either. They just said it in a WASP-ier way."

"Oh yeah? What did they say?" Matt straightens up a bit and looks at her. 

"It's embarrassing. And not a little racist."

"I can handle it."

"They just, you know. My mother just told me to be careful around you. Not let you alone with the silver, that kind of thing."

"The thieving Latino? That's the best she could do?" 

"I never said it was creative bigotry."

"Well," Matt says. "At least she's not actually a WASP. At least we're both Catholic. It could be worse."

"I'm sure they'll come around. All of them," Helen says. "And if not, well, they don't have to show up to the wedding."

-

All four of their parents do ultimately attend the wedding. It’s a small, simple affair, just family and friends in Matt's little childhood parish in Houston. It isn’t perfect. Helen doesn't know that her parents and the Santoses acknowledge each other the whole evening. But they’re there, and all exchange congratulations and I-love-yous, and Helen thinks things are probably going to work out just fine.

**_Part Three: Washington, D.C., 2006_ **

Helen is standing next to Dr. Bartlet in the pew. Matt is on her right side, closer to the wall of the church, and President Bartlet stands on his wife's left, closest to the aisle. All four of them have their hymnals flipped to the closing hymn. 

"The Mass has ended. Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your light."

Helen says amen and crosses herself with the rest of the congregation. It's a little funny, she thinks to herself as she starts singing, two presidents and two first ladies all singing some canticle or another at the top of their lungs. The song ends not soon enough, and she and Matt and the Bartlets are all standing on the steps of the church, waiting for the motorcade. Matt and President Bartlet are caught up in a debate about FDR again, so she turns to Dr. Bartlet.

Rather out of nowhere, Helen asks her, "Does it get easier?"

"What?" says Abbey. She looks confused.

"Being the First Lady," Helen says. "Does it get easier? Do people start to, um, like you better?"

Abbey sighs, looking out onto the street. "It's hard to say. I think it probably gets better. Either taking the heat and the pressure gets easier, or people start to like you better. But I got my medical license revoked during my time, so what do I know?" She turns to Helen and smiles. "I think you'll be fine. I was, and I wasn't nearly as likable as you. You know Jed's own mother didn't like me?"

Helen grins nervously. "Matt's parents didn't love me either."

"Well, there you go. Once you've faced the in-laws, you're ready for anything." Abbey paused. 

"Think of the American public as... a set of really, _really_ nasty in-laws. You'll do just fine."

"If you say so." Helen inhaled the cool December air. 

"They'll never stop criticizing you. But you have it in you. You just have to roll with the punches," Abbey says. She looks over at where Matt and the president are talking. "Honestly? I think we get more criticism than they do."

"For what it's worth," Helen says, "I think you were a great First Lady. Donna's pulling a lot of ideas from your platform."

"Don't dwell on me. This is what you make of it, Helen." Abbey turns to her. "It's your turn now, darling. Do as much good as you can."

Helen exhales, watching her breath form a cloud in the air. “I’ll try.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's about the passing of the torch, I suppose. I still don't know. please kudos and comment if you liked, and thanks for reading! Writing all these characters was new and interesting for me, so please let me know how I did. I can be found at slightlyraspberry on tumblr and @samseabxrn on twitter.


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